


Naergon en Peredhel (Elrond's Lament)

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Poetry, Post-War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrond muses upon his life as he begins to think about going to the Grey Havens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naergon en Peredhel (Elrond's Lament)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Naergon en Peredhel (Elrond’s Lament)

Young still was I when my mother left me,  
My father is naught but a fairy-tale;  
Old now am I, and the years weigh heavy,  
Though black be my hair and my body hale.

Much have I gained o’er the long years counting,  
Knowledge and power -- and bottomless grief;  
Much have I lost o’er the ages mounting,  
Friendship and love -- and unshaken belief.

Sons I loved, and a king, and a maiden;  
Their silken tresses through my fingers played.  
Now my heart with great sorrow is laden,  
For long ago all our choices were made.

Long have I dwelt where the trees stand thickly,  
Where leaves fall fast as the season passes;  
Soon will I go, when the white ship takes me,  
Where sea-spray foams and on black rock dashes.

Westward upon dark waves will it bear me,  
There to abide till the Last Battle’s test,  
When Earth and Eä in union free me  
And Eru, the One, grants my spirit rest.

 


End file.
